


Polovtsian Dance

by ParanoidAndroid (HomesickAlien)



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: M/M, its a little guro at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 20:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18924079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomesickAlien/pseuds/ParanoidAndroid
Summary: It doesn't matter, if you're dreaming of being the butterfly, or if the butterfly is dreaming of being you.





	Polovtsian Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading Shadpal lore this morning to work on a different fic when I had the sudden urge to write Mordred and Blaster Dark.... It's a little selfish for a fanfic, but I hope it is enjoyable nonetheless. Please excuse me.....

The long, uncut grass outlining the edge of the forest scratches against his armor. The nostalgic smell that fills the air with light breeze is unbearable, he can remember clearly a time of warmth that sickens his stomach now. A time when he were a child, when he were beloved by the light that aligns the Sanctuary he no longer steps into, as an adult. It’s bitter like the chill of winter, now. Unbearably hot, those little hands of his reaching to the sky, the hands of a knight holding his sword to the sun.

He’ll surpass that empty shell of himself, someday. He’ll overtake the sins of his past self, the memory of the dragon of Hell burning in his chest. They’ve both made many mistakes, but now…

Even though he’s alone out here, he can feel the holy presence of all the knights he holds dear to him, now. The knights that follow his will, the Shadow Paladins that have become like family to him. When he turns his back from the sky, he can make out the essence of each and every one of them. Though they rejoice in the darkness of the Sanctuary, when he walks toward them, it feels just like walking into the light. 

And as he makes his stride toward them, he feels a terribly cold touch gripping his wrist. He doesn’t have to look back to face the one who embraces him, this lifeless sensation could only come from one precious existence, this painful hold that cuts off his circulation, begging him to stay in this place, is nothing but the selfish wish of himself holding him back.

_ I will wait an eternity… _

“Junos.”

His empty voice resounds through the heavy trees of an equally empty forest. It’s the most grating sound to him, his heart is racing, his arm feels numb, but he can’t pull away from it. Like sludge that oozes from his skin, holding him down in this place, restraining him from ever moving forward. His vision starts to fade, his head is dizzy, and without thought he yanks his arm away, turning to face that torment with his heart set on where he belongs. 

He doesn’t really know at all, where he belongs now, but with him…

“I’m sorry.”

He says, catching his step from pulling back his arm. He steps back, once or twice, before he can face the phantom before him properly. It looks too much like himself, it’s uncanny, the image is too much like the past he wishes he forget, and the past he wishes to share for an eternity. The world is empty around them, a blank slate that can only turn on the memories he wills himself to forget, to run away from, to face head-on fearlessly. It’s terrifyingly claustrophobic, the longer he looks into his eyes, the tighter his throat feels, until he can breath at all, and this one speaks for him the words he can’t stand to face. 

“What are you afraid of?”

He says to him, stepping forward, Junos, stepping back. He takes a hand to his cheek, it’s gentle and warm and comforting and he’s afraid of it. Afraid of falling into that touch, falling through the floor into the abyss back to Hell where they’d both once resided. He’s terrified of his own desires, the weakness forever blossoming in his heart, until it burst through the sternum of his chest, the vines devouring him. Until nothing remains, that was their virtue, that was their…

The weight of his body pushes Junos back; He takes Junos in his arms, the embrace is too welcoming, like walking through clouds. He guides Junos through the grass, the soft, milky light of the moon following them like a spotlight as they dance. His hand fits perfectly into Junos’, it’s soft as a human’s but distant as a dragon’s, he’s two souls merged into one, that reality feels fake, and the fakeness feels so real. He pushes against him, pulls him close, his heartbeat pulses into Junos and he feels so alive, his pulse resonates under his fingertips as they fall to meet his wrist.  _ See how I’m alive, see how I’m breathing,  _ his breath is warm over Junos’ lips.

This kiss speaks to all the selfish desires of his heart. It feels like Heaven, but it’s not. It feels like paradise, but that paradise is false, a trick of the devil eating away at his mind. He can fool himself into sweetening the taste, but the warmth it brings him is long gone. He feels alone in God’s presence, small, insignificant, worthless. He wants to pull away but the most he can do is close his eyes, and acknowledge this embrace as it burns eternity into him. Until a warm heat wells up in his chest, that can’t be released. Until he steps away from Junos himself, his thumb tracing Junos’ lip, an untouchable smile forming over his face.

_ I’ll never be like you. _

A sharp intake of breath, caught in his throat, he can’t face the future earnestly, falling away from him. All the stars in the sky dissipate, just like this feeling of love, the sensation of closeness, the feeling that they are one. Everything fades, but their meeting is a promise of eternity. He doesn’t have to take up this roll alone, because someday… Certainly, someday… They will reunite again. He would never lie to him; he doesn’t have to overcome the past if he keeps waiting. Keeps standing still, in the mouth of the lion, waiting for his jaw to snap--

As he falls into the grass, he watches him through cloudy vision. His flesh spikes with hot scales that devour his skin, his body shaking. A mighty wind catches him, holds Junos up when he can no longer stand, his skin feels just as hot. A dark trail of smoke engulfs the phantom before him, swallows him whole until only one cursed entity lies before him. A dark dragon with traces of that bright red cloak billowing with a wind that isn’t truly there. 

That touch is no longer cold against his wrist.

But hot, terribly hot against his chest, pressing down on him with a single palm. With just the slightest bit more pressure, he’d die without a thought, and somehow that kind of future would be a blessing for him.  _ We could reunite there.  _ He grips the dragon’s arm in both hands,pulling up with all his strength, but the ease for which it comes surprises him a little. Pushing back the beast, he claws into the ground to steady himself. To pull his body back up. To get away from this place.The dirt digs into his nails as he projects himself, but even if he runs as fast as he can, there’s no where he could possibly go.

Is this reality, or a dream? The dream feels more real than reality itself does. His insides are aching, but he can’t feel a thing. His face, his skin, his body, is entirely numb to this.  _ I can’t be like you.  _ If he waits it out any longer, their whole army will fall apart, but he doesn’t know what to do. When he looks into the mirror, it’s as empty as the abyss. When the dragon grips his face, it’s a blessing that silences the whole world.

For just a moment, he can think straight. 

He takes in the scent of him, this welcoming embrace of his touch engulfing his face. Bringing up a single hand to return his hold, running softly over the dark scales that coat his flesh. They’re just as nice as back in those days, resting together with his back against the dragon. That one who could find time to doze off even during war, yet could fight so gallantly even as a stranger his role as their leader were indisputable. If Junos were to die he could only imagine it by two people’s hands. Mordred, and then…

The dragon releases him, and he falls back, too vulnerable before him that the dragon’s claws might strike at his chest. It’s such a sharp gash that it drags right through the armor of his chest piece, right into his flesh, he can feel the light drizzle of blood slipping over his skin. It’s the second strike that tears apart his armor completely, leaving the knight bare against the will of this dragon; he doesn’t strike him with clashing metal of swords, but the loving touch of his hands digging into his skin.

It’s like unzipping a bag of his secrets, slicing through his skin with a single claw and spilling out his insides. His face is so close to his, the scalding embrace of a dragon’s breath holding the skin of his cheeks hostage as he digs in to him. Even being eviscerated by the claws of a dragon, he can still breath properly, steadily, without fear. Because he is their leader, now, and he is…

_ “You are just like me.” _

Those words are the ones that stop his breath, that petrify his body in place, that make the whole world fall away, the sun rise in the night to burn away his skin. He hates the thought of it, and yet he could stay here eternally satisfied with the fantasy of the dream than the reality pressing against his ribs. It doesn’t matter, if it’s a dream, if it’s reality, if it’s what he wants, then it must be perfect after all. It must be…

He opens his eyes to the world, his hand pressed over the dragon’s maw. He wants to tug away, but he’s stopped by a force he can’t describe. A force that wants to hold on to this moment, to be close to him again. The dragon returns his touch, large hands cupping this tiny human hand. He could die in this moment, he should die in this moment, he’s smiling for the first time in a long time, in this moment. 

The dragon’s jaw splits open, wide into a toothy grin that matches Junos own. He moves away from the Knights touch, watches that gentle hand fall into the ground.  _ You’d make a good leader.  _ Those words feel so far beyond him now, an idealistic dream that would never come to be; The dragon tears into his sternum, dragging out the very soul of the knight from his chest. This is his everything, stringing to his body, like this they can become as one. His soul, the dragon’s soul, and then…

There’s one half missing to this dragon. Even through blurred vision, the dissonance is clear. This one still isn’t whole, even in his mind. That’s why he has to go, that’s why Junos has to be left alone. That is why…

“Wake up.”

The voice rings quietly in his ears. It comes from the dragon, but the voice is so small it could be mistaken for an immature human. It doesn’t sound familiar at all, he wants to silence it and embrace the will of his death, but it keeps coming again, and again.

“Grandmaster, wake up.”

And again, he wants the world to fall silent. He wants only to be silenced into this moment that the very world comes to an end. That the wars would be ceaseless, that they could fight by eachothers side through timeless eras, eternally. It’s too much wishful thinking, as he waits for silence to take him the dragon grows more, and more distant. Until it were like he were never there at all.

“Grandmaster.”

The knight opens his eyes, to meet the incessant one calling to him. It’s not the first time he’s had to be woken up by one of them, certainly not the last. He’s getting too comfortable there, in the world of fantasies and ideals. He looks down at Charon, he already knows what this one’s come to meet him for, ignoring all his duties as per usual. He stands, pats his head, and walks back toward their quarters. 

Charon looks at the knight for a moment before running to follow him.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No, I…”

“And another thing, quit sleeping around so much. You’re our grandmaster, so you ought to be a little more responsible.”  
“I’m sorry, I…”

“The sun set a long time ago, you know.”

Their grandmaster looks to the sky. It’s so clear that one might be surprised it were night, the world illuminated by billions of billions of twinkling stars in the sky, the moons high up above guiding their walk. Even the darkness of the night can be filled with such a gentle light, that he, too, wishes to uphold in their Shadow Paladin. Their darkness will be a kind, warm light that protects their Sanctuary. That is his will, but…

“A dream, is it…”

He can’t stop clinging to that past, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> commmmemenenenenntnttntttttttt onegaiiiiiii


End file.
